Who We Are
by StardustofShadows
Summary: Seamus is dead and he leaves Dean alone to cope with his feelings. At the same time, Hermoine is struggling and trying to cope with her own. Yaoi&Yuri. Minor lemonslimes. No straight pairings yet.
1. Beginning with an Ending

**A/N: _Please note: this story is both a yaoi and a yuri fic. This means gay-couple pairings. If you are uncomfortable with that, PLEASE LEAVE NOW! There is a handy little thing called the back button... yeah. And for those of you who are left, please continue reading. _**

**_This fic starts out Dean/Seamus, but that is only for the prologue, or at least, I think it will be that way. Starting with next chapter the pairing will be Hermoine/Ginny. And the story will continue this way, unless I get a bunch of reviewers asking for it otherwise. The first chapter is already written and will be uploaded shortly, but from there, I really don't know where this story is going to go. All I know is that it is dedicated to Yimi, my best friend, soul-sister, and soul-mate, and my cousin Caitlin, who is the one who introduced me into the world of reading and writing fanfiction. You two are the reason I, and in turn, this story, are here. Thank you._**

**_The fic is rated T for now, but the rating may go up, it depends, we'll see. All reviews and points of view appreciated. (Other than those who criticize and flame Gay pairings. I already told you, if you don't like it then leave already! Why are you even here!) And now, on with the fic..._**

**_P.S.)) No, the Author's notes will not always be this long. It is only to start this fic off, and if anybody is annoyed with me because of this, then my sincerest appologies. Read on..._**

Prologue:

The Beginnings:

There was screaming in the hallways of Hogwarts School of witchcraft and wizardry. Screaming and crying and uncontrollable sobbing. There was a crowd gathered outside the door to the Gryffindor common room and they were all standing over a dead body. Bloody and cold, as it had been since midnight. It had been seven hours since that fateful hour struck, but now the whole school was awake and standing around in the hallway, shaking uncontrollably with sobs or simply standing and staring, mortified that something like this could have happened. Only a few remained uncaring and indifferent.

The body lying stone cold on the cold stone floor was that of a boy. A Gryffindor 6th year by the name of Seamus Finnigan. Depression had been the reason for this death, and the means, a gleaming and bloody knifeknown assuicide. At least the pain was gone now…. For Seamus anyway.

Following shortly the discovery of Seamus' death came the funeral. It was cold and rainy and miserably wet on this day. But that was alright, for the weather mimicked the moods of the friends and family that gathered around the freshly dug grave, and the depression that Seamus' had faced and then lost the battle, and his life too. The mood in the air was one of misery and sadness. Tears were shed and lost to rain-soaked faces and already glistening wet cheeks. Guilt was also a big factor, and throughout the crowd thoughts were echoed again and again through everyone's minds. 'How could this have happened?' 'Why was Seamus so desperate?' and 'If I had taken the time to notice, could I have prevented this tragedy?' But despite all those who felt guilty, there was one amongst the crowd that day that was by far guiltier than all the rest.

Dean stood in the shadows, trying his hardest to be ignored and blend into the dreary background. His eyes held shimmering tears that he refused to let fall. His hair was dripping and rainwater was running down his nose and off and landing in the grass below. But no one noticed, and no one cared. But maybe it was better if no one knew, Dean thought. And as the coffin was settled into the freshly dug grave and the dirt was shoveled into the hole, Dean let the tears fall. It was his entire fault that Seamus was dead. All his fault, and really, truly no one else's. If only he had been more understanding, less hurtful, more willing to listen and accept it when Seamus had told him he loved him. If only he had been ready for all that and not pushed Seamus away as harshly as he had. He hadn't meant to be so cold, he had just been scared really; and he still was.

Dean hadn't known how to handle Seamus' confession. Hell, he hadn't even known how to handle his own emotions and feelings, how was he to be expected to handle someone else's? It was all unfair, so unfair; and now because of him, Seamus lay in a fresh grave with a gloomingly bright tombstone. Dead. Cold and dead. Sad and depressed and desperate for a way to handle his pain, Seamus had gone to cutting. But he had gone too far. Realizing this he had tried to stumble to the infirmary before it was too late.He had only made it as far as the hallway though, before collapsing, and then hello darkness, my old friend. And he had left Dean alone in the world, guilty, and now full of pain as well. It was too late now. There was no going back. Seamus was gone. He would never know what Dean had discovered. Seamus' love was never a one-sided thing, and it never had been. It had just taken Dean awhile to realize this fact. Sadly, a little too long.

If only you could travel back in time, change the past; fix mistakes and pointless, harmful errors. If only…. But there was no only now, and the pain that accompanied this time. So what was Dean to do? He could try cutting to handle his burden of pain, as Seamus had, he could get drunk, use alcohol to drive away the pain, as he had seen his dad do on more than one occassion; or he could live. Dean chose living. For as well as he had known Seamus, or thought he had, he knew that Seamus would have wanted it, for Dean's life to continue.

"Go on living," a voice in the wind seemed to whisper. "For I will always be with you, even if it is only in your memories, and in your heart."


	2. Continuing On Without You

**A.N./ Hello, once again. Welcome to chapter 2, or one, actually, of Who We Are. I would like to thank everyone for their lovely reviews (I haven't gotten any yet) and I encourage you all to continue with the great feed-back. ((Smiles sarcasticly)) In this chapter we meet Hermoine, and next chapter we will learn of her problems, so be patient, and stick with me for those of you who are reading this. (I've gotten a total of 3 hits so far.:C )**

**Disclaimer: I do not and will never own Harry Potter. Realize this now and mark me well, because I am not going to go about saying this every chapter. So this not owning thing applies to the whole story, thank you.**

**Also, forget about Voldemort, for now. He is not going to have a role in this story, as far as I am concerned. Also, if you are wondering, the sixth book, according to me, never happened. So Dumbledore is still alive and there are no crusifix's and ya-da-ya-da-ya.**

**Please Note: Any poems or song-like things written in this story are my own creation and mine alone. They are not to be used, borrowed, or stolen for that matter, without the author's (a.k.a. _my_ ) permission. If you ask permission for use of a poem for a fanfic of your own or any other reason, rest assured that it will most likely be granted. I just hope that you will tell me first and respect me as an individual writer who takes her time and puts her heart and soul into everything she puts down on paper. Also, it would be nice to know when (or if) someone likes my poems or anything else enough to _want _to copy them or use them in something they are creating. This also would be much appreciated, and thank you.**

**And now, the fic shall continue. Read on non-existent readers! Woo-hoo! ;P**

Continuing On:

It had been a week since Seamus' death, and slowly, everything was beginning to turn back to normal. There were less teary faces and swollen, puffy red eyes. Less broken voices, cracked from endless sobbing; and less nights spent dreamless, with nightmares and without sleep.

The time for healing had come, and the time for mourning had ended; and oh, so quickly had it passed by. Maybe it had truly only been a week, or maybe a month, maybe two. Everything was running together in Dean's memory. How was he to know? He really couldn't tell. All he knew is that it was misery here, trying to live on and continue life, without the one you loved by your side.

Everything now seemed so pointless. Dull and dreary and boring and shades of gray. This was the world perceived through the eyes of Dean. Heartbreak was one thing, he had discovered; but the total and complete loss of someone you love, that is different. There are no second chances, no next times, and no forgiveness. Just hurt and guilt and empty holes too big to fill up, no matter the abundance of your tears.

_Torn up inside, there's nothing left. _

_The world is a place of sadness, a place of pain. _

_You try and get back on your feet, but you fall again, _

_And you realize, nothing will ever once more be the same._

_Sobs and screams and tears to shed. _

_Desperation is all there is, and will be till the end. _

_Nothing changing, ever the same. The same sad story told and retold. _

_And there will never be anything else, for my world has grown too dark and cold._

_Nightmares and darkness come,_

_Despite the light of day._

_Alone and afraid we give up hope_

_-as we have found no other way._

_No more chances,_

_No more tears_

_This is the end or so they say._

_What could have been?_

_We'll never know._

_For you're no longer here today._

Walking down the hallway, Dean looked around him as though in a trance. He was searching the crowd for a face, a certain face amongst the many the lingered in the crowded hallway. Why he was looking, he didn't know. The one he was looking for was not to be found. He wasn't there anymore. The saddest part of it all though, was that he wouldn't be coming back.

Dean looked down at his shuffling feet as he continued to walk along down the now slowly deserting hallway, hiding his tears as best he could from those walking and standing around him. He sniffed quietly and tried hard to keep the tears from falling. He was already getting a reputation as emo in the school for his endless depression since Seamus' death. His quiet ritual of crying himself to sleep every night wasn't helping either. He didn't need to make this worse by giving the masses one more display of emotion to hold against him. Noting this and then quickly glancing around him as though to make up his mind, Dean grabbed the edge of a nearby tapestry and lifted it, ducking into a deserted and dark passageway. As he let go of the tapestry it swung closed behind him, cutting off all light. It was dark here. It was colder back here as well, that was true, but it was empty, and Dean needed somewhere to himself to think.

Enjoying the newfound quiet of the darkness, he continued to wander on along the tunnel, one hand pressing against the wall as he walked for both reassurance and direction. Taking calming, deep breaths, he tried to stop his tears and gather his thoughts before re-emerging into the main part of the school. This passageway couldn't continue on forever, and so he needed to get himself together while he had the chance. "Seamus…." He muttered to himself, shaking his head and quietly shedding a few more tears. "How am I supposed to get over you?" His question remained unanswered though, the persisting silence, his only solace. Or maybe, maybe it wasn't complete silence.

Pausing for a moment, Dean stopped and held his breath, trying his hardest to make no sound while he listened intently. There it was! A small, soft, muffled sound that sounded like quiet puffs of wind blowing through a crack in the wall somewhere in small, irregular bits. He breathed again. Glad he was alone. But, no. He heard something else. Silent and listening again, he leaned a little towards the sound, as though to better catch the echo of it as it passed along the cold stone walls. It was a suffocated, whimpering kind of sound. As though a small animal of some sort was crying out from inside a mass of blankets. What could it be? And then it hit him. There was someone else here in this passageway. Someone else who had sought out the companionship of darkness and silence. And that someone else was crying. Sobbing actually, if he listened hard enough. He ought to know, he did it quite often himself as of recent.

Tiptoeing now, he made his way toward the sound, half of him wondering, and half of him not wanting to know, who it was that was crying. The crying grew louder and Dean could begin to make out words. Something about sadness and desperation and abandonment, and a name. Though not one he could make out. Choking with sobs the words were mixed up and the sounds didn't come out right, making it hard to determine their meaning. "I'm sorry…." He heard. "Oh, Ginny I'm so, so sorry….." followed by more sobs and sharp, ragged breathing. Ginny? Oh yeah, he knew Ginny. His roommate Ron's younger sister and a 5th year Gryffindor, she had caught his eye before. How could you not notice her, with her flaming red hair and her loud, melodious laugh? She was unmistakable, remarkable, and not someone that you could easily forget.

Pressing onward and taking less care to hide his arrival, he continued feeling his way down the dim and gloomy passageway. It was getting lighter now, but still, there was not enough light to properly see by. And then, before he even realized he was there, he stumbled upon a small, shaking form. A shadow person in a world of shadow that belonged now to them both. Huddled into itself and curled up in a ball it took him a while to realize who it was. But another glance at what should be the head of the person proved his suspicion right. The frizzy mane of hair could only belong to one person that he could think of, and that one person was Hermoine Granger.

Kneeling beside the form and taking her into his arms, he knew he was right. It was Hermoine, for sure, there was no doubt in his mind about that. But why was she crying? And about Ginny none the less? His questions unanswered, Dean hugged her tighter, using body warmth as comfort with which to calm her. And as her shaking slowly subsided, he felt himself breathing easier as well. 'Maybe comfort is a two way street,' he thought. And maybe, just maybe, the pathway of loss and recovery was one as well.


	3. Falling In Love

**A.N./ Alright! Chapter 2 is up and I'm still going strong baby! -Even with lack of support from my scarce readers. But, oh-well. I've decided to give it time. Leave a review if you want to or if you have any suggestions for this story. Other than that, I love ya, and read on:D**

Falling in Love:

It was almost midnight and the dorm room was silent other then the quiet breathing of Hermoine's four roommates. Other than that, her world was silence, and to Hermoine, silence was peace.

These past few days had become so troubled and confusing, she barely knew who she was anymore, and as she gazed out the window at the deserted grounds lit by the moon's pale light far below her, she realized she had lost all track of time and meaning. Ginny's confession had shaken up her world, and now Hermoine was in a world of tumult and chaos and feelings. A place laced with confusion around every turn. This, she had found, was a place she didn't much care to be. "But I really can't help it," she mussed to herself quietly. "How else am I supposed to react? I've waited so long for this, and now that it's finally happening, I can't just disregard it as though her questions were of no importance. This affects me, and I'm just going to have to accept that." She sighed audibly. This was hard, too hard almost.

The last year, Hermoine's fifth year at Hogwarts; had been very confusing. Around every corner questions had been lurking and it had taken her forever to find the answers to them. Questions about who you are were always the hardest ones to find the answers to; and maybe it was because, for once in her life, Hermoine couldn't find the solutions to a problem simply by leafing through a book. There was no book in the world that was written to tell about her and only her. There was no book out there that you could read and immediately know who you were. The world doesn't work like that, and this can be one of the hardest things to accept.

But the problems were gone now, her questions answered, and new ones had stopped coming. The new self-confidence brought about by the slowing down in arising problematic questions, was calming, and one of reassurance.

She was a lesbian, Hermoine had figured that much out. And she was feminine, not transgendered. She had figured this much out as well. For a while though, she had had a very large debate with herself on what she was. Bi? Lesbian? But that was over now. Boys just weren't interesting enough, so there really was no other choice, for her. Period. And then she had fallen in love. That had been the other big event that she had endlessly debated with herself over last year.

Hermoine had been friends with Ginny since her second year, and Ginny's first year, at Hogwarts. For four years now. They were best friends, soul-sisters even. But then, somewhere along the course of Hermoine's self-questioning and her path to self-discovery, something had changed. Suddenly, being around Ginny didn't feel the same anymore. Being in her presence had caused questions, problems and feelings that she hadn't wanted. She was pretty sure that Ginny wouldn't want them either. So she had kept them to herself. Shit, it had been almost a full year now and Ron and Harry _still_ didn't know. Ginny knew, however. Not that Hermoine had fallen in love with her of course, although she might have had some idea or suspicion; but that Hermoine was Bi, and then later, when the time came, that she was now a "full lesbian" as she had dubbed herself. It had taken a while and little courage, ok, a lot of courage; for Hermoine to tell her this. But for some reason it was easier to tell Ginny then it had been when she had tried to tell Ron or Harry. Maybe it was because she had known ahead of time that Ginny wouldn't care, and would accept her and love her no matter what, or maybe it was just because they were closer to each other then she, Ron and Harry could ever be.

Hermoine still remembered with perfect clarity the moment when she had told Ginny she was Bi….

_**Flashback……..**_

It was Halloween night and she and Ginny had just returned from the Halloween feast in the Great Hall. Not yet ready to turn in for the night, the two of them had settled down in Ginny's empty dorm room to talk and eat sweets and play games. For a while they talked about nothing important; boys and classes and who was dating whom and more about boys; but then, after a moment of tense silence, Hermoine knew it was time. Taking a breath to steady herself, she cleared her thoughts and then got Ginny's attention.

Ginny looked up from the board game they were playing and glanced at Hermoine, not really sensing that anything was amiss. If she noticed how nervous Hermoine was, she either didn't show it, or didn't care. Waiting for Hermoine to go on Ginny simply nodded her head, showing that she was, indeed paying attention. And then, Hermoine, who was now too nervous to think of any other was to say it said, "Hey Ginny," she hesitated briefly. "What would you say if I told you I was Bi?"

Ginny simply shrugged in return, saying something along the lines of, 'I wouldn't care, and you know it doesn't really change anything. You're still you.'

No more was said on the subject and a few minutes later, they both turned in for the night. Neither one bothering to put the game away or to finish it.

_**End Flashback……..**_

Hermoine smiled a bittersweet smile as she remembered that night. How awkward it had been when she had told Ginny. How scared and timid and shy she had acted, blushing and squirming as she had. But it had been ok, hadn't it? Ginny had accepted her for who she was without making a big deal out of it. That was what she had wanted to happen, wasn't it?

Hermoine thought about it some more, rehashing the scene over and over again in her mind, until she realized something she hadn't before. She had never paid much attention as to why that night had been so awkward and strange. She had never really questioned it, and had immediately written it off to her being scared of admitting, both to Ginny and herself, who she was; but now, looking back, she saw something she hadn't seen then.

That was the night it had all started, the night that all semblance of balance had disappeared and everything got thrown out of whack. This was the night that marked the start of the newfound distance in their friendship. The tense-filled silences and the corny jokes, answered by the newest arrival of shrill, false laughter. Ever since that night, things had been different, and only now it was, that Hermoine knew why.

That night had been the night that she had fallen in love with Ginny.


End file.
